


Unguarded

by evil_whimsey



Series: Blackbird [2]
Category: Ouran High School Host Club
Genre: Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-06-13
Updated: 2011-06-13
Packaged: 2017-10-20 09:43:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,823
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/211409
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/evil_whimsey/pseuds/evil_whimsey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Book Two of the Blackbird series, sequel to It's Always the Quiet Types.  A closer look at the relationship between Mori and Hunny, against the background of Ouran canon events.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Part 1

 

Everyone who knew Hunny and Takashi believed that Takashi was around to protect Hunny, but Hunny knew better.  He knew that it worked both ways;  Takashi looked after him, and he looked after Takashi a lot, more than Takashi often realized.

Haninozuka Mitsukuni was not unaware of the indifferent pressure of the world around them, pushing people into molds of sameness and predefined roles.  Most people couldn't really be themselves, he knew.  They took on the parts others assigned them, often at the cost of their own dreams and inclinations.  It didn't matter whether someone's dreams weren't hurting anyone else; if one stood alone as an odd-shaped peg in the world's vast unbroken ranks of precisely drilled holes, they must change themselves to fit, just to survive.

He understood these things from personal experience.  Not so very long ago, Hunny had tried to make himself fit the part the world had handed him.  He'd carved away at himself with a vengeance, for months, imprisoning any hint that might betray his inside self.  He tried with all his might to stop being Hunny, and exemplify Haninozuka, the thunderous warlike figurehead of his family name.

It was what he thought everyone wanted.  And he thought that if he could become the thing that was wanted, fit into the space with his name, on the world's meticulous pegboard, then he could be content.

It was a disastrous experiment.  Nothing fit, and he wasn't content;  in fact, he was more miserable than he'd ever been, and Takashi had been miserable for him.  But then Tamaki-kun came along, possibly in the nick of time.  And his odd fanciful genius had saved Hunny, and Takashi too in a way, and after that, Hunny made a pact with himself.

No one on earth save their own mothers knew the cousins as well as they knew each other.  Hunny swore he would safeguard the person he knew best, as Takashi had safeguarded him, for as long as he could.  He would stand sentry between the boy he had always known, and the world's merciless attempts to turn that boy into either a cookie-cutter stranger, or else someone he was never truly meant to be.

The Host Club was a difficult adjustment for Takashi, at first.  The Club was a busy place, dozens of conversations buzzing at once, little games and diversions, and the constant gravitation of girls toward the boys they fancied.  And it wasn't that Takashi was anti-social, he simply socialized at a different pace than everyone else.  He was caught wrong-footed at the starting line, and never quite able to catch up.

To help Takashi, Hunny worked to siphon attention away from him.  He tried answering some of the girls' questions on Takashi's behalf, and when he didn't object, Hunny took up speaking for them both.  It bothered him when the girls treated the two of them as a single unit, with Hunny as the mouthpiece.  But Takashi did relax with less direct attention from their guests, and his eyes lost that look of a high-strung yearling, ready to bolt any second.  So Hunny let it become a habit.

He intervened in other small ways, too.  When Takashi became restless at their afternoon table, he begged his cousin to go see if there wasn't one more slice of cake left across the room.  And when the very room seemed to bear down and stifle him, Hunny asked for his company on a stroll outside. 

Gradually, Takashi did settle in with the Host Club.  He found his footing, and even began taking an interest in the goings-on.  And as he learned to take those first tentative steps toward others, Hunny learned to fade imperceptibly into the background, and give him space.

Some of their chattier guests jokingly confessed that they had initially come over for Takashi's looks, but stayed for Hunny's company.  Hunny didn't mind; the girls were pleasant to talk to, and even if they fetishized his childish features, it did no harm to anyone.  Takashi went more quiet than usual for some reason, when those admirers came around, and Hunny figured he was intervening for both their sakes.

Takashi had another type of admirer, rare but consistent.  Though with this sort of girl, Hunny found he couldn't intervene at all.

He thought of them as the shy girls.  They seldom approached his cousin directly, and never came to the Host Club; though they might appear in a quiet corridor, or in the school library during a study period.  Their aptitude for silence matched Takashi's own, but their message to him shone clear in their lonely, hopeful eyes.

Every time he saw one of them approach, Hunny thought the shy girls were the bravest people he'd seen.  They looked so uncertain, and yet so sincere, and Takashi always looked so stunned when these girls came to confess their feelings.  Hunny couldn't do anything to help his cousin then.  He couldn't interrupt, or provide Takashi with a comfortable way out.  Not when such a girl had staked all her courage on speaking a few words only to him.

At first, Hunny thought one of those shy, brave girls would be a perfect companion for Takashi.  She could look after him, she would treasure him if he let her; there would be no fickleness or coy tricks between them.  They could keep each other quiet company, and it would be lovely.

But then Hunny saw a change in Takashi.  It may have been gradual, and he simply hadn't noticed, for it came to him as a surprise.

*  *

It was early afternoon, in the spring of their second year, and Hunny was crossing campus on his way to the Host Club.    He had just passed the fountain in the central courtyard, when across the way, in the shade of the covered walkway, he spied Takashi, facing the latest of his quiet admirers. 

The girl was staring at her feet, as if willing them to stay put while she gathered her nerve to speak, and Hunny would've ducked behind the fountain to give them privacy, except that he saw Takashi's face.  And it was different.

He didn't look entirely under siege, for once.  He actually looked, Hunny thought, like he was starving and someone had offered him rocks to eat, and he was almost ready to accept the rocks out of sheer desperation.  For the first time he could remember, Hunny didn't understand his cousin at all.  If he was so hungry for companionship, why didn't Takashi at least try what was being offered?  Why would he choose to keep suffering, when a chance for relief was right in front of him?

He never mentioned it to Takashi, but for some time after that, Hunny worried.  He feared his cousin had misunderstood the extent of his responsibilities, and all along he'd been denying himself something he wanted very much, on the grounds of tradition and lifelong friendship.  Which was ridiculous, Hunny thought.  He knew his heart, and Takashi's heart, at least to the extent of being utterly confident that neither heart was so small it could only accommodate the care of one person, exclusively and permanently.

He watched his cousin closely for some time after the courtyard incident, saw Takashi turn down a few more girls, with a more tortured look each time, until Hunny was almost ready to confront Takashi in exasperation, demanding to know what he thought he was doing.  It was a close thing too, but in the end, it was his observation that paid off.  He caught a small, lucky clue that made all the difference in the world.

Takashi had been at Kendo training, and Hunny had dropped in to catch the end of the class.  He'd been propped on a pile of practice mats, watching Takashi spar.  Half-dozing, entertaining vague thoughts of blueberry cake.

Takashi's sparring partner was a third-year, not quite as tall as Takashi, and slightly less broad in the shoulder.  But what the boy lacked in size, he made up for in sheer competitive will; putting everything he had into the match, every move precise and determined.  He made Takashi work for every point, too, and it was clear that both sides thrived on the challenge, with each striving their utmost to gain advantage over the other.

Hunny had thought he should visit the Kendo room more often;  for in that sparring match, Takashi looked more at ease, and more satisfied than he'd seemed in quite some time.  And it wasn't because he was winning, so much as because he was challenged.  The other boy wasn't quite as quick, and he lacked Takashi's graceful control, but it was like the boy could predict what Takashi's body would do before he moved.  And every time the boy successfully blocked a maneuver, or caught Takashi in transition, Hunny saw approval spark in his cousin's eyes.

When it was over, Takashi shook his partner's hand and thanked him for an excellent match.  And even though he'd lost to a younger student, the third-year boy positively beamed.

And that was when Hunny caught it, the quick flash of naked, selfish yearning in Takashi's eyes.  He clasped the other boy's hand a mere fraction longer than necessary, but it was like....

....Like this was all that kept him from starving to death, and _oh, Takashi_ ,  Hunny thought, overcome with sympathy and no little remorse for not having caught on sooner.

Then Takashi was bowing out of the ring, and heading to greet Hunny, who leapt from the mats and threw himself into his cousin's arms.  Takashi smiled fondly at the welcome, but then Hunny whispered into his ear, almost frantic.

"Takashi, why didn't you tell me?"  And Hunny felt him stiffen, going still and grave, understanding the question immediately.

"It's okay," Hunny whispered.  "I just wanted you to be happy.  It hurts to see you unhappy."  
Takashi hung his head, sighed, and hugged his cousin tight.  

"I'll be all right," he murmured back.  Like it wouldn't be today, or tomorrow, or next month even.  But some day, he'd be all right.

"I want to help," Hunny told him.

"You do help."  Takashi pulled back to look him in the eye.  "You help every day."

*  *

They had only one conversation about it, after that.  It was toward the end of that year, after quiet, studious Yamato Keiko had found Takashi by the west gazebo, and admitted her deep affection for him.  She had brought him a small box of Belgian truffles, beautifully wrapped, and he had accepted it, but gently explained it was all he could accept.

Feeling confused and melancholy after the encounter, Takashi brought the truffles to show his cousin.  
"I took them," he said.  "I didn't know what else to do."

"Do you think," Hunny said carefully, "that it might be good to let them know....why you aren't interested?"  
Takashi sighed.  "Too complicated."

"What if you said you were interested in someone else?"  
"That would be cruel.  And untrue."

"Or if it was a rumor, you wouldn't have to say anything.  People believe all kinds of things they hear, right?"  
"Where's the evidence?" Takashi shrugged.  "Rumors don't work without evidence."

"Then what if a boy gave you chocolates?  Tamaki would help you, if you asked.  Or Kyouya, maybe."

Takashi gave his cousin a slightly horrified look.  "I'm not sure that's a good idea."

They opened the box and shared the chocolates.  Which is to say, Takashi took one chocolate like it was a sort of penance he had to do, and Hunny had the rest.  
When the box was empty, Hunny said, "I'll be your alibi, then."

Takashi gave him a questioning look, and Hunny explained.  
"You can tell them it's because of me, and the family history.  People respect traditions.  You're Morinozuka, I'm Haninozuka.  If I had to come first with you, people would accept that."

"But," Takashi frowned.  "You do come first."  
"Because you're my friend, Takashi, not because you have to.  You do understand there's a difference, right?"  
"Of course," Takashi said, though an uncertainty lingered.

"I mean, if you found someone you really liked, then you'd want to spend a lot of time with them.  And that would be good, I'd want you to do that."  
"You would?"

Hunny paused, dumbstruck. Turned and looked closely at his cousin.

"You didn't know that?"

"I....never thought about it."

Hunny wasn't at all sure what to say, after that.  But he had a premonition of difficult times ahead.

 

*  *  *  *  *


	2. Chapter 2

Part 2

 

School had been back in session for almost two months, before Kyouya had time to sort through the photographs from Karuizawa.  In spite of Tamaki's near-daily reminders, and the Hitachiin's inventive attempts to get their hands on the photos first, Kyouya kept them safely tucked away until he could give them his undivided attention.

When Club business and the new semester's schedule had settled in a sort of routine, and once the preliminary class standings had been submitted to the Chairman's secretary (with Ootori Kyouya still safely at the top of 2-A), then and only then did Kyouya allow himself time off one afternoon, to sit and review the vacation photos.

He chose a secluded table in the Third Music Room, in the quiet lull before Club hours, with a window on one side and a wall at his back.  Poured himself a cup of tea, and flipped the latches on his briefcase, where the plain brown package of photographs was kept.

The collection was sizable, for only a week's vacation, and Kyouya sorted the shots into stacks by category.  One stack was for the Club's private archives;  images their customers wouldn't necessarily appreciate, but which the members might enjoy personally.  Haruhi in her apron and kerchief, chopping watermelon with a determined air.  Tamaki and Kaoru playing chess in the pension's little library;  Hikaru was out of frame on that shot, lying on the rug, but his bare feet stuck up, propped indolently on his brother's chair.

The second pile was shots he'd offer directly to the members.  Group portraits with Misuzu and various locals, and a number of quirky surprise candids.  One was of Kyouya himself, giving the photographer (Haruhi, actually) a startled look over the top of his glasses;  there was another of Hikaru, caught awkwardly climbing through Misuzu's rose bushes, the afternoon they played Kick The Can.

The last stack was for the money shots.  Images guaranteed--and in most cases posed--to catch customer interest, and fetch a decent profit in auctions, and photobooks.  The twins in their swim trunks, soaked and laughing in the spray of the garden hose.  Haruhi barefoot, lounging under an apple tree in a rare lazy interlude, reading a novel.  Hunny and Mori making an offering at a tiny mountain shrine they'd discovered.  Tamaki playing Misuzu's piano.  Kyouya marking on a tourist map, the spots they'd visited.

He was almost done sorting, when Hunny entered the Music Room, with Mori close behind.  Greetings were exchanged, and then the pair went to put away their briefcases.

"Are those the Karuizawa pictures?" Hunny asked in passing.  
"Yes," said Kyouya.  "Would you like to see them?"

"Sure," said Hunny.  "Just let me--oh!"    
Kyouya glanced up to see Hunny waylaid by the rich, glistening Sacher torte on display at the refreshment table.

"What about you, Mori-senpai," Kyouya said, smiling faintly.  "Care for a look at our vacation photos?"  
Mori shrugged, loosened his tie, and ambled over.

He looked briefly amused at the stack of photos for the customers, passing it over in favor of the other two stacks.  Kyouya was still inspecting the last of the collection, but he kept one idly curious eye on Mori, sorting through the candids and group images.  There came a quiet chuckle when Mori uncovered the shot of Hunny, caught with a mouthful of ice cream, a dab of white smeared on his nose, startled by the camera flash.

"Good one," he said.  "Hikaru took it?"  
"Naturally," answered Kyouya.  "Would you like to keep it?"  
Mori considered it, but shook his head.  "I'd never hear the end of it," he smiled.

Kyouya nodded his understanding, and went back to sorting, thinking not for the first time that semester, that something seemed different about the young man across from him.  Something he had yet to put his finger on.  Not that he'd devoted much thought to it;  he hadn't had much to spare until quite recently, and perhaps it wasn't even worth troubling over.

Mori seemed more relaxed since the summer, was all.  And on occasions such as this one, very nearly personable.  It wasn't any radical change, and to the less observant probably wasn't even noticeable.  But Kyouya was highly observant by nature and necessity, and this subtle new thing about Mori interested him.

He put two more photos on the pile near his elbow, and handed two across to Mori.  
"Could you add these to that group?"  he asked.  
Mori took the two shots, saying nothing, and then Kyouya heard a quick, almost inaudible intake of breath.  He let it go for a beat, and then another, and then very slowly raised his eyes to see what had caused that reaction.

It was an unremarkable shot, to Kyouya's eye.  Taken in the kitchen at the pension, Haruhi and Hunny in the foreground, wearing aprons and dusted in white flour.  She'd been teaching him to make raisin scones, as Kyouya recalled.  They were flanked in the frame by Mori, holding a rolling pin and sharing a commiserating look with Haruhi's middle school friend, Arai, who was holding a flour sifter.

"May I keep this?" Mori asked.  He didn't look up, but Kyouya was conscious of some effort put into that voice, to keep it so noncommittal.  
Taken off guard, he very nearly asked the unthinkable;  Why that one?   But he stopped himself in time, and only said, "Certainly.  First come, first served."  Putting in an offhanded shrug, for form's sake.

He wondered, though.  As Mori tucked the photograph away in his uniform blazer, Kyouya wondered.

Within moments, Hunny appeared, bearing tea and torte, and Mori handed the photos to his cousin.  Kyouya got the definite impression that Mori was done with them, from that point.  He wasn't even curious about the images he hadn't seen;  he'd found the one that satisfied his own mysterious criteria, and that was that.

*  *

Kyouya told himself he was keeping an eye on Mori-senpai for the good of the Host Club, and this was mostly true.  It was more work than anyone appreciated, keeping such a disparate group of strong personalities on an even keel, but it was part of the burden he'd accepted along with the mantle of Vice President, and he'd known that going in.  

Most of what it took to run the Club, Kyouya had to learn as he went.  He'd learned foresight, the value of a good contingency plan, and calm in the face of absurd catastrophe.  He learned how to have a monk's patience, and a Yakuza's ruthlessness, and which situations were best served by each.  And when he decided that this new difference about Mori deserved closer inspection, Kyouya had to learn to disappear.

He'd long possessed the knack for fading into the scenery to gather information, but with Mori as his subject, Kyouya was challenged to refine that knack to an art form.  For Mori, vigilant by nature more than necessity, had an exceedingly sharp sense for when he was being observed, and Kyouya had to work harder than he ever had, to see without being seen.

He learned to tune in to his senpai's moods, coming and going.  Taking note of anything that changed in that typically mild, pensive expression;  what caught his attention in conversations, what things he gravitated toward, what he avoided.  As Kyouya applied himself, he got better at it, and in due course was relieved to discover that while Mori was acutely aware of his surroundings, he was not actually omniscient.  That if one were subtle enough, and careful enough, they could probably watch him to their heart's content.  

They likely wouldn't see anything earth-shattering though, Kyouya felt.  That is, until he learned better.

One thing he had not expected to discover, was Mori's rather large blind spot where girls were concerned.  For whatever reason, he managed to remain wholly unaware of his admirers (none of whom were anywhere near so subtle as Kyouya) until they were standing directly before him with their hands trembling, and their hearts in their eyes.  Like Sasuma-san, for instance.

Kyouya had seen her coming a mile off, with her intent lingering looks and weeks of tracking Mori, until she'd surely memorized his daily routine.  Yet Mori failed to take notice until the afternoon she finally intercepted him, in the cafeteria commons, after lunch.  It was a pure stroke of luck for Kyouya, who'd felt the girl would be making her move any day, that he happened to be dropping by the cafeteria just then.  

In keeping with his low profile, he strode past the hall where they stood, headed straight to the cafeteria counter, and ordered the cappuccino he'd come for.  Then on his return, he stationed himself on a bench with his drink, striving to appear completely absorbed in his physics text.

"Morinozuka-san," the girl was saying.  "I know it must seem forward of me...."    
As with the majority of girls Mori attracted, this one was soft-spoken, unprepossessing, and hesitant in the extreme.  And like all her predecessors, Kyouya wished like anything that there was some way to get her into the Host Club.  Such a customer would be unfailingly loyal, and it seemed unpardonable to him to let an opportunity like that go to waste.

"...I feel that your heart is good, and true," said the girl.  "And I would be honored, if you could return my feelings, allow me to spend time with you--"

A flash of motion snagged the corner of Kyouya's eye, and he risked a brief glance up from his text.  Just in time to see Mori's hand go to his chest, in a swift unconscious gesture of feeling.  Mori caught himself;  the hand dropped to his side, but Kyouya's only thought was  _Good God, he's going to accept_. 

Though that didn't add up; the girl had come out of nowhere, and Kyouya was relieved to hear Mori's regretful sigh, precursor to a gentle refusal.

"You have my apologies, Sasuma-san.  But there is--."  He broke off, just long enough for Kyouya to finish the sentence in his own head, and startle himself badly.

 _There's someone else._    He would never be able to explain why, but in that two-second pause, Kyouya would have staked his life on those being the next words out of Mori's mouth.  But then Mori caught himself a second time, and amended the sentence.

"There are family responsibilities."

Which was the standard Morinozuka party line, and while it sufficed well enough for Sasuma-san, Kyouya wasn't fooled for an instant.  Mori had  _almost_  put his hand to his heart, and he had  _almost_  confessed to there being Someone.  Who, was the question that plagued him off and on the rest of that day.  Until he was home, in fact.  Sitting at his laptop, clicking through digital scans of the Karuizawa shots for auction, where he recalled the odd clue which had started him keeping tabs on Mori in the first place.

The answer must be in that photograph.  Mori's hand hadn't been going to his heart that afternoon (though that organ may have factored in significantly).  No, what he'd reached for without thinking, was the photograph he'd asked for.  Still tucked, no doubt, in the upper pocket of his uniform.  

It was only conjecture, but the idea felt so obviously true to Kyouya, that it left him reeling.  Suddenly, his question of Who was narrowed down from possible infinity, to one of only three individuals, the ones in that photo.

Perhaps it was understandable then, that having made two excellent and highly likely deductions, Kyouya tripped in his haste to jump to the final conclusion of the mystery.

"Haruhi," he said to the empty room, pushing back from his desk to collapse against the back of his chair.  

Heaven help them all, Mori had fallen in love with Haruhi.

He knew right off he should brace for disaster.  Mori would have none of Tamaki's pathological confusion over the true nature of his affections, nor would he hesitate as Hikaru had too long done, over the fear of upsetting his tentative foothold in the world.  If Mori chose to act on his feelings, it would be quiet, but decisive, and the result would be chaos for all of them.

For one of very few times in his life, Kyouya thought he might be on the verge of panic.  With the help of many deep breaths, he made it to the lavatory to splash cold water on his face.  This was no time to panic.  He had to pull himself together, and be ready to act on a moment's notice.  The future of the Host Club hung in the balance, and Kyouya had to get a plan together.

*  *

As it turned out, he was in for a long anxious wait.  Nothing happened at school the next day.  Or the day after, or the next week, or three weeks.  Kyouya watched and waited for his worst fears to materialize (and formulated an encyclopedia's worth of contingency plans, while he was at it).  But nothing happened for months  after that.

And then long after Kyouya believed Mori must have discarded his feelings, or else given up on Haruhi, Kasanoda Ritsu happened.

 

*  *  *  *  *


	3. Chapter 3

Part 3 

It wasn't hard to see why people were misled by Kasanoda's looks.  He had the sort of face that belonged behind threats of broken kneecaps, dirty money trading hands under the table, and shady deals going down in dim-lit back rooms.  Standing him next to Mori was like setting a grimy switchblade next to pure, straight Minamoto steel; on the surface, the contrast was stark.  But then Kasanoda spoke, and Kyouya was reminded that Host Club stock-in-trade aside, character judgments based on looks were worthless.

"I like to read and write," said Kasanoda.  "I like animals.  I can't stand anything painful."  On his arm, the boy had scrawled this declaration,  _Respect For Morinozuka Takashi Forever!_   using a permanent marker.  Yanki tradition had these things tattooed, but clearly his heart was in the right place.  It was just Kasanoda's bad luck, that he happened to choose such an unwilling master for his apprenticeship.  

Mori went through several shades of feeling in the moments following Kasanoda's surprise appearance;  stern suspicion gave way to disbelief, which yielded to fascinated dread, until finally he looked ready to bolt for the nearest exit.  Apparently it was easier for Mori-senpai to face down an intruder, than it was for him to handle a disciple, and Kyouya thought somehow this was telling.  As the nature of the boy's petition came clear, Mori looked more and more as though he'd like to back himself against a wall, as far from Kasanoda's fervent admiration as it was possible to get.

Tamaki took the fellow under his wing when it was clear Mori was at a loss, but it was Haruhi who really took to him, seeing right off what Tamaki, Kaoru, and Hikaru, in the full heat of their crusading spirit, chose to overlook .  Kasanoda didn't need to change anything about himself at all, except perhaps his tendency to react badly to embarrassment.  The only thing standing between him and his modest desires was his defensive shyness, fed by the mistrust and trepidation of others, which was in turn amply fed by....well, his defensive shyness.  It was a self perpetuating cycle, but one that could be broken, given the right person's help.

And because Kyouya had been intrigued by Kasanoda's situation, and because he'd still been keeping an eye out for any developments between Haruhi and Mori, he was almost certainly the only one who saw that Kasanoda had two people willing to help him end his friendless cycle:  ironically, Haruhi, and Mori.

Their approaches were greatly different, but when you got down to it, the goal was essentially the same.  While Tamaki and the twins tormented their latest pet project with kitten ears and flashy scarves, Haruhi was the tiny vocal minority going practically unnoticed in her assertion that Kasanoda was fine.  He didn't need an outward change.  

Kyouya was uncertain as to the exact nature of Hunny and Mori's work on Kasanoda's behalf.  He knew some covert observation was involved, and that the pair had reorganized their usual schedule to include plenty of time in the first-year's company.   He felt it safe to assume that in essence, they were attempting to change things behind the scenes, to guarantee that once Kasanoda was ready to accept his place among friends, no unwelcome outside influence could take that away.

At the time, it simply hadn't occurred to Kyouya that Kasanoda might actually be under attack.

 

*  *

 

"This has gone far enough, Takashi.  We need to put a stop to it."

As Mitsukuni bandaged his fingers, Mori reflected that his cousin looked older than his age when he was angry.  His soft voice was tight, terse, and his expression promised dire consequences for the near future.  When Mitsukuni was angry, there was no mistaking him for anyone but a Haninozuka man, Mori thought.

"We still don't have a suspect," Mori sighed, frustrated.  His fingers were badly cut, his head was bruised, there was a swollen lump on his forearm where the roof tile had impacted, and he was growing very weary of spending day after day on guard against a threat they still couldn't identify.

"They're cowards," Mitsukuni spat.  "They won't face us in an honorable fight, like men."  
"They aren't after us," Mori reminded him.

"Should we tell Bossa Nova-kun?"  
Mori shook his head.  "Not yet.  He's---he's still getting used to having friends."

"You like him, don't you," his cousin mentioned, as casually as he could.

"He's good," said Mori, after a moment's consideration.  Then feeling that wasn't quite sufficient, and if Mitsukuni was looking for reassurance he'd better try harder, Mori searched for a better explanation.    
"He wants to share....what he has.  He'll work as hard as he has to, for the chance to share."

Mitsukuni listened as he taped the gauze on Mori's fingers, trimming the ends neatly, and then gave his work a practiced once-over.

"This should do," he judged.  "Too tight?"  
Mori flexed his fingers gingerly.  "No.  It's good.  Thanks."

"You could still be Bossa Nova-kun's Sensei, if you wanted," Mitsukuni offered.  
"He doesn't need one.  He's fine.  Just shy."

"So you want to be his friend?"  Mitsukuni's look carried a weight of sober commitment.  "You really want to?"  
"I could--," Mori darted his eyes sidelong toward the floor.  "I'd like to try."

"I know that you know this, Takashi.  But I'll say it anyway.  What Bossa Nova-kun wrote on his arm, it doesn't mean...."  Mitsukuni stopped, hating to force difficult truths on those he loved.  But Mori knew what was coming, and waved him on tiredly.

"Go ahead.  Finish it."

"It doesn't mean he gives chocolates to boys."  Mitsukuni sighed.  "I'm sorry, Takashi."

Mori shook his head.  "It doesn't matter.  He asked for help, and I can help."

"Okay," said Mitsukuni.  "Then we'll help."  He packed away the First Aid kit; iodine, gauze, tape, and then paused with the scissors in hand, deep in consideration.

"You know, these cowards we're dealing with...."  
"Yeah?"  Mori prompted.  
"They don't want to face Bossa Nova-kun."  
"Right."

"So if you're protecting him directly, you won't see them either."

Mori blinked as the idea sunk in.  "You think I should leave him out as bait?" he asked, mildly incredulous.  
"I think if they see an opportunity, they'll get careless.  And they'll never see us coming."

Taking a deep breath, Mori turned to look at his cousin with respect, and a certain amount of awe at his unexpected ruthlessness.  
"You really are Haninozuka," he muttered, shaking his head a little.

Mitsukuni neither confirmed nor denied the statement.  He only looked down at Mori's bandages.  
"I want this business finished.  It's no good."

*  *

Unexpectedly, it was Haruhi who paid the price of the bait scheme, to the tune of a uniform shirt and blazer, and several startling seconds of her modesty.  And Hunny was sorry about that.  Sorry for Haruhi, and Kasanoda and Takashi.  But Takashi didn't anticipate how far Hunny's implacable protectiveness could go.

Hunny felt they had to know, whether Kasanoda could ever return Takashi's feelings (if Takashi ever decided on any), and he felt it best if they know at the outset, before things got complicated.  When the opportunity presented itself so neatly, Hunny took it, and decided Takashi could hate him or thank him later.

"Haruhi is upstairs changing," he told Kasanoda.  And the speed with which the boy took off--heels pounding and hair like a sheet of windswept fire--gave Hunny a moment's pause over whether his risky last minute interference might actually pay off.

For if Kasanoda ran like that after someone he thought was a boy, well, that could be good, right?  He'd find out in a few seconds that Haruhi most definitely wasn't a boy, and if that made her ineligible to Kasanoda....

It meant Takashi might have a chance, finally, with someone he liked.  Hunny didn't think of Arai as often as he guessed Takashi did, but it wasn't as though he never dwelt on him, and that summer's lost chances.

In the midst of his musings, Hunny caught Kyouya-kun, who had worked out the imminent consequences, giving him a strange look.  One of his curious, surprised looks that plainly asked,  _What are you playing at, and why?_

But there was no time to consider what and how much he might have told Kyouya, for the boy turned directly to Tamaki and said, "Are you really okay with this?"

(And if Hunny had been the mischievous type, a devil like Hikaru or Kaoru, he would've thought Tamaki's expression, suddenly comprehending just where Kasanoda was racing off to, was priceless.)

Things didn't turn out quite as anyone had hoped after that, though perhaps it was all for the best in the end.  Takashi didn't hate Hunny, and he didn't thank him.  He only went around for a few days with heavier shoulders and even fewer words than usual.  Like Christmas had come and gone, and he had almost gotten his hopes up, but wouldn't be trying it again anytime soon.

As for Kasanoda.  Well, it seemed he was developing hopes of his own, involving Haruhi.  

In a moment of weakness and slightly bitter irony,  Hunny couldn't help wondering if all his cousin's chances were destined to be snatched from him like this.  Just once, he thought, he'd like to be congratulating Takashi, instead of being the only one to see his broken heart, wishing there was some way he could help mend it, when things went wrong.

 

*  *  *  *  *


	4. Chapter 4

Part 4

 

People who counted Takashi among their friends liked him for his steadfastness, his even temper, and how he never wasted breath on inconsequential words.  Though he rarely spoke, he always told the truth, and always meant what he said.  Hunny thought it a shame that no one appreciated Takashi for his innate cleverness, too.  Perhaps they would if his cousin were a little less subtle on occasion, but maybe he was only being clever there also.

It was the second day Kasanoda had come to visit Haruhi at the Host Club.  Tamaki was still traumatized, the twins were annoyed and fractious, and Takashi had left Hunny with their guests, wandering off to plant himself by a window across the room, where he spent an hour standing still and straight as a floor lamp.  It wasn't until Hunny approached, that he realized exactly why.

That particular window was the only one where someone could watch the whole room reflected back at them.  Takashi had figured this out somehow, and had been watching Haruhi's reflection pouring tea for Kasanoda's reflection all afternoon.  

There was no sign of jealousy in his observation, nor did he seem to regard them with any specific wishes in mind.  It was more, Hunny thought, like watching a layman staring at a complex clockwork mechanism, wondering what made it tick.  Taking the scenario as a whole, Hunny wasn't quite sure whether he was more impressed by his cousin, or more inclined to pity him.

"Takashi," he said.  Offering his company, his support.  He couldn't think of much else to say.

"She's going to be a handful for someone, some day," Takashi remarked, watching the glass.  
"Haruhi?" Hunny asked.

"Look at Kasanoda."  
Hunny did, and realized what discreet sidelong glances couldn't show, what no one would see unless they were watching the pair with both eyes.  This way, it was painfully obvious  that Kasanoda worshiped Haruhi.  His eyes followed her every move, helplessly, and he seemed hung on her every word.  He looked both awed and tormented, but happy to endure any torment for her company.

"Oh," Hunny breathed.  Wondering if that was what Takashi had been after all along, someone who would look at him like that.  And whether it hurt, seeing that look so intently fixed on someone else.  It must hurt, mustn't it?

He suffered a moment's grave doubt, thinking it was a terrible mistake to have sent Kasanoda after Haruhi.  He could have kept quiet, and they would all still be wondering, but at least he could have saved Takashi having to watch this.  
"Oh...." he repeated.

"She has no idea," said Takashi almost curiously, as though this wasn't Haruhi they were talking about, but someone else.  Someone who should've known what was right in front of them.  
Hunny peered for the little Haruhi-reflection in the glass to see for himself, but something moved in behind them, blocking the reflection.

"Kyouya," Takashi said simply.  
"This window has a useful view, doesn't it," said Kyouya.  "I wondered if anyone else might discover that."

Takashi turned casually from the window, as if whatever temporary curiosity was outside had moved on.  He put his hands in his pockets, and waited.

"Well," said Kyouya.  "Kasanoda and Haruhi."

Hunny couldn't help thinking that if Kyouya-kun wanted a conversation starter, he would have done better to stick with comments on the weather.  On the other hand, he knew the boy wouldn't have introduced the topic at all--especially to Takashi and him--without having put a great deal of thought into it first.  In which case, it was probably best to let him talk.

"What do you think will happen, Kyouya-kun?" Hunny asked.

"I'm not sure," Kyouya admitted, and Hunny realized he must be very concerned, to be so blunt about it.  "But actually," he went on, "I came with a question for Mori-senpai."

Takashi looked at Kyouya; attentive, slightly curious.

"There was a photograph you had asked for, from the Karuizawa vacation.  I don't know if you recall...."

Hunny remembered the picture all too well.  Takashi had kept it in his pocket for weeks, and now had it framed on his desk at home.  That Kyouya should bring up such a thing now....it couldn't be good.  Feeling a little chill ripple through him, Hunny moved closer to Takashi's side.

Takashi, on the other hand, looked no more concerned than he had when Kyouya first caught them at the window.  
"I remember," he shrugged.  Kyouya struggled over what to say next.

"I noticed you taking an interest in our new guest." 

Takashi looked steadily back at him, revealing nothing, until Kyouya almost looked ready to fidget.  But he collected himself and went forward.

"It reminded me that this summer, you appeared to take an interest in Arai-san, too."  
Hunny's chill intensified;  he felt compelled to break in.  "Everyone was interested in Arai-kun," he pointed out.  "He was Haru-chan's good friend."  Takashi put a hand on his shoulder for calm, but Kyouya had already found the point he'd come for.

"That's what made me curious lately.  I have no wish to invade Senpai's privacy, but in this case I felt it my responsibility to ask."  
"Ask?" said Takashi, raising an eyebrow.

"Kasanoda and Arai have both sought Haruhi's favor.  It's the only common quality between them I could positively identify.  And as you took an interest in both of them, I could only conclude that--."  Kyouya tilted his head down, embarrassed, or perhaps suddenly realizing he could conceivably be beaten up over this.

"Forgive me.  I only wished to know if you were planning to sidestep the middleman any time soon."

The statement was so oblique, and so Kyouya that Hunny failed to grasp its meaning at first.  And he didn't exactly care at that moment.  He was frankly irritated with Kyouya, for digging around in such personal places, when anyone ought to see that Takashi was hurt and disappointed enough already.  And part of him wanted to shout at Kasanoda too, so everyone in the room could hear:  _Don't you understand what he went through to give you this chance?  Don't you understand why?_

He held his tongue, because he knew it was what Takashi wanted of him.  He couldn't stand shouting scenes, even when something might be gained from them.  He would sooner go without, than take anything at the cost of another's peace and dignity.  Hunny knew this, and so he buried his frustration as deep as it would go, and waited quietly.

Takashi turned back to the window with a funny look, just as it dawned on Hunny what Kyouya was actually asking.

"I never thought of Haruhi as the middleman," Takashi sniffed.  "She'd be offended."

A small giggle escaped Hunny before he could stifle it.  It could have been the stress of the moment, or perhaps it was just Kyouya-kun's look of utter confusion.  It wasn't that important;  what mattered was how powerfully Hunny loved his cousin just then.  For his courage, and his cleverness, and the resilience that enabled him to make such a joke at his own expense, despite Kyouya's questions coming as clumsy strikes on bruised and tender places.

"I'm sure that--," Kyouya stammered.  "That is, I didn't intend--."  And then he shut his mouth hard, when Takashi's meaning caught up to him.  When he realized that Takashi hadn't misunderstood him at all, but had in fact patiently and very subtly corrected his rather huge misapprehension.

"I'm very sorry, Senpai," he said, bowing low.  "I had no idea, obviously.  I concluded that since Haruhi was in that photograph...."  He trailed off, straightening slowly, clearly recalling the others in the picture.

His speculative look at Hunny was met with a flat stare that dared him to guess again, at which point Kyouya surrendered the discussion altogether.

"It's none of my business," he bowed again.  "Please forgive me."  
Returning his gaze to the broad green lawn outside, Takashi asked, "And the Host Club?"  Sounding as unconcerned as a stranger asking the time of day.  Hunny knew it for a dangerous tone, though, and was glad to see Kyouya took it for the same.

"This isn't Host Club business.  They won't hear of it from me," he promised quietly.

Hunny allowed himself a small sigh of relief on Takashi's behalf.  "Thank you, Kyouya-kun."  
Kyouya gave him a brief nod.  "I should go see how Tamaki is holding up.  I'm sorry for my mistake.  Please excuse me."

The boy departed, and Hunny turned to Takashi.  Still feeling there was something he ought to say, or do, to make things easier.  The feeling had been a habit with him for so long, and up until recently, he'd been able to satisfy it with the right words, or some simple gesture.  Things weren't so simple anymore, though.  And seeing Takashi, with his forehead propped against the window glass, eyes briefly closed, Hunny had a feeling it would only grow more complicated from here.

 

*  *  *  *  *


	5. Chapter 5

Part 5 

 

Not long afterward, a couple of weeks at most, Hunny was summoned to the family doujo for a private meeting with his father.  They knelt on mats, opposite one another, as tradition dictated.  And according to tradition, Hunny endured many minutes of silent inspection from his father, sitting stone-still and sword-straight in his white fighting uniform, knowing from long experience that the man would not speak one instant before he was ready to.

"I asked you to come so that we could speak of your future," his father finally said.    
Hunny nodded, having guessed as much; the school year was drawing to a close, and he felt sure such a discussion was bound to be coming soon.

"Young Morinozuka is not with you," the man observed.  
"Haninozuka-sama's note stated I should come alone," Hunny answered.

His father gave him a long careful look, then nodded tersely.  "It's good that you understand."

And Hunny understood very well, then.  Haninozuka-sama had brought him to discuss his future, without Takashi immediately at his side.  Never mind that his father dealt habitually in deep hints and complex obscurities; it was impossible to miss the significance of that.

"Your term at Ouran will be ending in two months," said his father.  "Have you given thought to what you'll do afterward?"  
Hunny had given it a great deal of thought, but he was a bit taken aback that his father would ask.  In the past, these formal discussions had consisted of his father giving orders, and Hunny promising obediently to carry them out.  He had trouble believing the man would actually solicit his opinion on something so important, but there it was right in front of him.

"I'm--yes, sir.  I have thought about it."  He took a deep, slightly nervous breath.  "I know that one day Haninozuka-sama will appoint a  successor to the family name, and the doujo.  And whether that turns out to be Yasuchika or myself, I feel I should be prepared for the responsibility.  That is," he paused.  "I want to be ready for the responsibility, sir."

"Ah," said his father, leaning back fractionally, as if to get a broader look at the person sitting one meter across from him.  As if he hadn't known him all his life.  As if he hadn't been staring him down for the last half-hour already.

Hunny guessed he was in for a long wait after that, and he wasn't disappointed.  It was all right with him, actually.  He didn't mind the chance to catch his breath, consider the tenor of the conversation so far.

It was true, what he'd told his father.  Two years ago, he wasn't ready to even consider taking his father's place at the head of the great Haninozuka family.  Even when he was trying with all his might to buckle down,  strip himself down, to something more like his father's image, Hunny never actually believed he could take the man's place.  Walk in his footsteps.  Stand for what his father stood for:  Spartan severity, and a martial code so strict that it offered no quarter even to a man's own children.  This was not him.  It would never be him.

Paradoxically, it wasn't until he stepped out from under the Haninozuka shadow and struck out as himself, that Hunny was able to honestly appreciate what else it might mean, being heir to all his name stood for.  After all, it had been Haninozuka steel that had dictated they must leave Kasanoda unprotected, in order to catch his enemies.  And was it not that same Spartan strictness he'd chafed under, which turned out the most elite police and bodyguards in the world?  Those who trained in this very room, went forth and kept countless others unequivocally safe, no matter the hazard to themselves.

He'd come to understand that there was real honor, in standing for the family name, maintaining the traditions, and continuing his father's work.  And the more he became acquainted with the world outside the doujo, and outside of Ouran, Hunny understood that there was a necessity for it as well.  The only question was, how did one learn this work?  How did one undertake such a large and complex enterprise?  Their lands and holdings, the estate, and family, and well over a hundred loyal men in the family service.  How had his father, and his father's father learned to manage it all?

As if reading his son's mind, Haninozuka-sama spoke.  
"Some of your friends plan to attend University after Ouran.  Is this something you've considered?"

Could he learn all he would need to know in University?  Would that prepare him for the future he envisioned?  
"I'm--I don't know, sir," he said.  "Did Haninozuka-sama go to college?"  
"I attended a few courses.  Business, history, philosophy.  But not for a few years."  The man mused for a few moments, and then said, "Take time to travel.  Live abroad for a year or two."

"Where, sir?" Hunny asked, startled.  
His father shrugged.  "Wherever you will see the most of the world, as it is.  Live among people who strive, and fear, and who do good and terrible things.  When you return, you will tell me what you've learned.  If you've learned enough, I will teach you what I know."

Hunny took time to absorb the request, look it over from a few angles, while his father waited.  One immediate concern nagged at him, and he struggled over how to present it.  
"Sir," he finally said.  "Does Morinozuka-sama have similar plans for Takashi?"

His father's look measured him for a long time, long enough for Hunny to think how much simpler it might be if every conversation they had weren't so like a high-stakes game of  Go.

"Morinozuka-sama," he finally sighed.  "I have long believed it was not in that family's best interests to remain an adjunct of ours, for as long as they have.  Your grandfather released them from service, through marriage no less, and yet they remain bound to us."

Hunny listened to his father, fascinated.  He'd known the history all his life, of course, but had never heard it told by this man.

"My cousin," said Haninozuka-sama, "is as steadfast and stubborn as his father, and his father's father.  And he has yet to ask anything different of his sons.  What will their destiny be, if they do not claim it?"

It was probably a rhetorical question, something meant to give Hunny food for thought later, but Hunny couldn't help thinking of Takashi.  Seeing him in the backyard of Misuzu's pension, laughing with Arai.  Laughing like a man who had seen his destiny, and thought it a fine, splendid thing.

"They are part of our hearts," Hunny murmured unthinkingly.  "And we are part of theirs.  Who wants to lose part of themselves, when they don't know what else they'll have?"  Then he remembered himself, where he was, who was speaking to, and shook his head.  
"I'm sorry sir.  I spoke out of turn."

His father waved the apology off.  "It may be true what you say.  But such a liability is not something to be wished for.  We do no honor to the Morinozuka's service, if we allow them to protect our interests above their own."

Hunny nodded, understanding what was being asked of him.  That it was not at all the same as putting himself away, to become someone else.  Instead, he would have to put Takashi away, so that Takashi could become himself.  The very idea seemed terrible to him, and he couldn't even imagine the hardship it would bring them.  But he also understood that his father was right.  It was necessary, for Takashi, and the future of his family, that Hunny let him go soon.

"Yes sir," he said, bowing formally.  "I understand."

 

He left the doujo and walked slowly to his quarters, turning a great many things over in his mind.  He replayed what his father had said, about living in the world, and bringing back what he had learned.  Meaning that where he went, and what he learned, must prepare him for his real tutelage:  becoming first student, and then perhaps master, of a dynasty.

But my first lesson, he thought, starts here. With the person he knew the best, and loved almost the very most.  It seemed like all year, he'd been searching for a way to help Takashi, and had come up with nothing.  Now he had a plan that could help more than anything else could have, and with his father's suggestion about travel, he had the perfect means to carry out that plan.  

Yet Hunny was all too aware that before it helped, it would hurt.  It would hurt very much.

 

*****

 _[end Book Two]_


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